


No Way To Get Help- Prompt Fill

by captaincravatthecapricious



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Depression, Gen, Hard of Hearing Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Hospitals, I guess this is a fix it most of my stuff is, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Nausea, Statement Addiction (The Magnus Archives), Statement Hunger (The Magnus Archives), Statement withdrawal, Suicidal Thoughts, Victim Blaming, ambiguous mentions of injury, cw for mixed feelings about Georgie, this is post unknowings folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29831460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captaincravatthecapricious/pseuds/captaincravatthecapricious
Summary: Well... this was supposed to be about Jon, but it's about Tim instead.  Under the wreckage of the wax museum, Tim isn't dead.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker
Comments: 9
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> cw nausea, depression, mentions of suicide and suicidal ideation (canon typical levels for Tim end of season 3), ambiguous mentions of injury, hospitals

The silence is deafening.Or would be if Tim wasn’t partially deaf already.He hadn’t been wearing his hearing aids.What would have been the point?He knows the plan.Daisy and Basira are ….were?Hardly chatty.He didn’t?Doesn’t?Didn’t?Want to hear a single word that Jon had to say. 

God.Tenses. 

Is anyone still alive?Is it just him? 

He should clarify.The silence is deafening after the explosion.After the circus music that was somehow louder, possibly because it was at least partly inside his head.There is probably the sound of rubble settling, and the groaning of burning building, and rushing emergency vehicles.But… he can’t hear a goddamn thing.Just that eternal ringing in his ears.He has never been sure if that was tinnitus or just what silence sounds like.Never thought it worth asking after he learned that people with tinnitus have higher rates of suicide.And… well… if this stupid plan was nothing else, wasn’t it just some grand suicide scheme? 

One that looks to have spectacularly failed. 

Just him… probably alone.In the dark. 

Then again, if he’s alive, maybe the others are too?Does he want that? 

If he’s honest, he would rather just be dead. 

Not that that is a revelation. 

Then again, he could be dead in a minute. 

He can’t feel his legs.Well… he can.He wishes he couldn’t.He wishes he couldn’t feel anything.There is so much pain that it just… it’s too much for him to even register as pain anymore.He just feels… cold and crushed.Probably shock because there are actual fires burning around him.He can smell it.The burning plaster and plastic and wood and smoldering concrete… if that is even a thing?Thick air.He’s coughing.And that hurts more. 

He can’t hear it, however. 

He can’t hear anything but that goddamn ringing in his ears. 

He thinks he might be crying. 

He can’t hear his own heaving sobs. 

Just that high-pitched whine of utter silence. 

_Do you know what that sound is, highness?Those are the shrieking eels…_

That’s it. 

The only words his brain can find, as he grows ever more numb.He has no doubt that darkness is eating at his vision, or would be if there was anything but darkness around him.

Not even the words from the book.Lines from the movie. Which isn’t a bad thing…He doesn’t even know his own feelings about his favorite book and his favorite movie. 

(That’s not true.He was always a fan of the movie, but… he and Danny read the book to each other so often…He has the work paperback in the pocket of his bomber jacket.Wanted to die with it.Ideally buried with it, but it’s not like he left a note.Aside from that damn tape). 

The whine continues.He doesn’t know how long it’s been. 

_Do you know what that sound is, highness?Those are the shrieking eels…_

That had been the first thing he had thought of when he first heard the worms. 

He curses the worms to the darkness.If it hadn’t been for them… he could have lived in blissful ignorance about the darker nature of his job… well to some degree.Sasha would still be here.Jon wouldn’t have….FUCK.He doesn’t want to think about Jon while he’s willing himself out of existence.But….

But Jon.That little fucking moron.Who he HATES.Who he wants to hate. 

Does he hate Jon? 

Is Jon even still alive? 

If he’s dead, does he want to keep hating a dead man?One who …wasn’t any worse than him. 

Which isn’t to say blameless, or not a twat at times….But.But not a monster.And Tim can’t really blame him for not trusting anyone. 

Jon… was in the wrong, but so was Tim.They have both been utter dicks.Which has always been Tim’s least favorite plot.God back in publishing… a Lifetime ago… he always hated books that hinged on characters fighting, not talking things out, not Understanding and that rift causing endless misery.Has he really become something that he hated… still hates with every fiber of his being.The number of books that set his teeth on edge from the first misunderstanding.He actually hates most Rom Coms for that reason.Which… surprised just about everyone he’s dated. 

He possibly groans.He isn’t thinking clearly. 

He can’t hear himself groan. 

He really should give it up, and let himself pass out.He _hurts_.He’s _tired_.If he wakes up… that’s a problem for later.If he quietly slips away… well… maybe he’ll see Danny there.Maybe he’ll see Sasha.Hell, maybe if he sees Jon there, they can work something out.If there is an afterlife… they’ll have all the time in the world.(Or rather all the time in the next world).And if not… well.Eternal rest sounds pretty damn good. 

…But.But Jon.If Jon is alive down here… He should be close. 

And… Tim can’t let him die alone under this building.He can’t lose someone else to the Circus while he sits idly by.And Damn it, maybe he doesn’t want to meet Jon in the afterlife just yet, maybe he wants a break?(And maybe he just loves him too much to completely give up on him… even though he knows he is far too late.Too many bridges burned. _“We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.”_ A line from Jon’s favorite play.)

Tim tries to move his fingertips.And almost screams.It hurts.It hurts.It hurts. 

He thinks he might scream.But he can’t hear a sound. 

He braces himself and tries again.Stretching his arms out as wide as he can.Moving dust and ash and rubble.  
He almost passes out.Or maybe he does pass out.Time has no meaning in this place. 

He finds a hand.Cold.And limp.And his heart stops, first for fear that this is another mannequin.Then for fear that this is all that is left of someone who was… could have been… is? _Something_ to Tim. _Everything_ to Tim. 

Tim thinks he might vomit. 

He feels out a little further as his head swims.He feels the stretched and puckered skin of undoubtedly Jon’s right hand.Unresponsive.Possibly dead. 

Tim coughs.Choking on the soot and heat and fumes in the air.A massive weight both metaphorical and painfully tangible on all of him.Aching pain breaking him into little shards, which turn right around and skewer him. 

Tim loses consciousness.Old and cracked and dry paperback of The Princess Bride in his pocket.Limp hand of his… friend? In his hand. 

Tim wakes up in hospital. 

His lungs hurt.And everything feels distant and fuzzy.Probably being pumped through with a lot of painkillers.Probably for the best, or he might be more upset for waking up.He wants to ask after Jon… but he can’t get his mouth to open. 

And suddenly he’s thinking about Westley.Mostly dead.Revived.Head flopping around on his neck.Danny had lost his shit laughing at that… it always made Tim feel sick after… everything.The imitation of life… couldn’t quite shake the image of… that night.Christ if he was on less drugs, he would probably puke. 

He would shake his head if he could move.

_“You just shook your head, that doesn’t make you happy?”_

He is also struck by the thought that this is Kill Bill in reverse.Nearly died getting his revenge, and _then_ ending up in a coma.(He watched those movies on Bad days.When he downs enough whiskey to drown a horse.He can’t say he really remembers much of them, but they were always cathartic.) 

He tries to look at his feet.But he can’t even lift his head. 

He closes his eyes again. 

When he opens them, he sees Martin.Worn and tired.Looking older than ever, more haggard than Jon. 

Shit!Jon.Is Jon here?Is he dead? 

He still can’t move. 

He looks at Martin again.Martin is… talking?Tim can’t make out anything.Just the dull murmur of meaningless sound. 

…But. 

Martin is holding a book. 

A sooty, singed book. 

Martin sitting between two hospital beds, holding Tim’s old copy of The Princess Bride, facing Tim presumably so if Tim were to come around, Tim could read his lips. 

_“I said, ‘What do you mean, “Westley dies”?You mean dies?_

_My father nodded.‘Prince Humperdink kills him.’_

_‘He’s only faking though, right?’_

_My father shook his head, closed the book all the way._

_‘Aw shit,’ I said and I started to cry._

_‘I’m sorry,’ my father said.‘I’ll leave you alone,’ and he left me.”_

Martin is also crying.Just like Billy in the book. 

“’Who gets Humperdinck?’” Tim whispers.Painfully aware of how dry his throat is.It’s no more than a cracked whisper. 

And then he’s coughing. 

He can barely hear himself, but he swears he is coughing out a lung. 

Martin has dropped the book.Staring in wide-eyed shock for a moment, before yelling something.Scrambling up.Probably getting a doctor.Tim wishes he hadn’t gone. 

He looks are where Martin had been, but ends up getting a good look at the bed next to him.And sees one, very still and very pale Jonathan Sims.Very bandaged, and frighteningly still.Tim can’t see breathing. 

And then he’s being poked and prodded and tested and Martin is talking to him.And everything hurts.Until it doesn’t and he’s lying still and Martin is smoothing his hair down and holding his hand and telling him that he’s been unconscious for a month.That Jon is all but brain dead.That Elias is in police custody. 

By the time Jon wakes up, five months later, Tim has decided to give him another chance, he and Martin are sharing a flat, there is another room ever hopeful that Jon will want to join then if- no, _when_ he wakes up. 

Also.Jon’s hair may or may not be dyed green. 

Maybe. 

No, Tim has no idea what everyone is looking at him like that for. 


	2. You Don't Understand- Prompt Fill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has a rough time after being absent for 6 months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW fainting, victim blaming, withdrawal/starvation symptoms (from statements) (I am a bit vague about which it is more like because I couldn't choose, so a bit of both), trust issues, very brief Peter Lukas mention, brief mention of someone being touched while unconscious (nonsexual and very brief mention), and cw for some very mixed feelings about Georgie. I understand her, and I don't hate her, but I don't really like her either so please don't get mad at me for how she is written I am trying to do her justice and I get why she does the things she does, but I don't have to like her for it.

It’s been six months.How has it been six months? 

Jon isn’t sure how he is supposed to think about that time.Is it all supposed to feel like a dream, that one moment he’s blowing up, the next he’s awake? 

It doesn’t feel like that. 

But he also wasn’t really there for six months, was he?

He sighs deeply to himself.It doesn’t matter. 

It doesn’t matter. 

He’s alive. 

He’s fine. 

Martin and Tim are sharing a flat, apparently.And that’s good.He thinks?Maybe? 

They keep telling him there is room for him, but he isn’t sure he can believe that…. Not after everything with Tim.He wants to believe it…But… what if Martin doesn’t want him there.He thought maybe they had a moment before the Unknowing, but did they? 

Jon’s not good with…. Feelings.With people. 

Not to mention he’s been Gone.With a capital G and a flatline of a heartrate. 

Even if he and Martin could possibly have…Could possibly have had something.Of some unknowable sort.That he couldn’t have hoped to put a word to for fear that it would crumble around him.But he’s been gone and Tim hasn’t been and they seem close now. 

And maybe Tim is trying again with him?But how can he be sure?When everything is confusing and out of sync with what he thought of time. 

Not to mention the deep hunger that is more than hunger.Deeper in his gut, and harder to ignore.Followed by a fog of confusion and the sense that his skin is too tight, that the world is the wrong temperature, and that everything is tilted ever so slightly, making it impossible to keep his balance. 

Reading statements helps, but… Basira… but Georgie.The disappointed glares they send his way when he skulks off to read one in hopes of feeling like his limbs are his again…. That he isn’t being slowly set on fire or slowly frozen.The world skirting by him with a vengeful glee leaving him to rot in his own misery on the shelf in the stacks he’s been calling home recently. 

Martin wasn’t there when he woke up…. Working for the ever elusive Peter Lukas.Tim wasn’t there… Martin later telling him he’d been afraid of scaring him.Which Jon couldn’t escape the worry that, in actuality, it was _Martin_ worrying that Tim would scare Jon… or hurt him.Which Jon could tell was the more valid of the worries.Or he thinks it is?How is he supposed to be certain.How can he trust anyone?How is he supposed to trust anyone when Basira gives him such calculating stares, when Melanie glares metaphorical and literal daggers at him, when Georgie has been ignoring his texts (and her harsh words upon his waking).When Martin is working for a literal monster.When Daisy is gone… and Jon doesn’t know how to feel.He wants Basira to be happy, but he feels safer without her.And he doesn’t know how to feel about anything but he is sick and hungry and cold and hollow. 

There is no one. 

Georgie doesn’t understand.

He runs into her once, picking Melanie up for therapy.After…. An unwise abrupt and shady surgery. 

He is in the breakroom.Baffled that Martin is still making him tea when he hardly sees him around.Even more baffled when Tim makes him another cup. 

What does it all mean? 

(Not to mention his confusion at the green hair… that had been a shock.

When he texted Martin about it, he said to ask Tim, and included an emoji that Jon couldn’t parse out.Weren’t emojis supposed to be easier to read than actual faces?It was maybe resigned?Or maybe regretful?

Regretful of what?Is he ashamed of something?Is he regretful that he opened a text from Jon, that Jon turned down the request to move in?  
It isn’t that Jon wanted to turn it down. 

But it sounds too good to be true?When everyone avoids him at work… Well Tim doesn’t, but Jon is scared of being alone with Tim.He is scared of this kindness and how long it might last.)

So he’s in the breakroom. 

Trying to steady himself the less monstrous and terrifying way. 

And Georgie is there. 

Jon shrinks back on himself.Still hoping the mug of tea will make his hands steadier, make him less cold, less shaky, less miserable.But he’s having difficulty holding it with one shaky hand, white knuckling his cane with the other.Trying not to let it tremble as much as the rest of him, propping himself up when black spots start eating at his vision.Not in the POTS sort of way… but in the same way that has been since America.Since that first hint of fear that maybe… maybe he’s not human, that he is reliant on some horrifying eldritch god of knowledge. 

This is the price of him waking up. 

And it chews him up from the inside when, in his panic, he tries to limit his consumption hoping that it will turn him back.Hoping that he still has a chance to win back the people he cares about, but fighting the fear that this is the only way to save them all. 

He doesn’t know what to do.Being undead doesn’t come with a manual. 

And there is no chance that Georgie will take this any better than she did when she kept telling him to quit… to just stop. 

He’s trying! 

It’s been a few days since his last statement, and the world swims before his eyes whenever he stands.Worse than it ever has.He’s woken up on the floor more times in the few weeks he’s been alive again than in the long and confusing months leading up to his diagnosis. 

Which was after Georgie… which… means she hasn’t seen him like this.Not when he was living with her because he has been managing, or so he thought, but hell maybe the Eye had a hand in that. 

And oh Shit, she is looking at him now. 

What does he do if she wants to talk?She hasn’t responded to any of his texts, or late night calls when he’s been too afraid to call anyone else and she always felt safe.Even when they were fighting.But she hasn’t been there for him.No one has, of late.Except the people who are trying and Jon is too confused to know what to do so he does nothing and an all-consuming guilt joins in with that Hunger.That sickness eating him from the inside with every word he doesn’t consume. 

“Hi Jon.” 

He can’t say anything.He’s been standing too long, but seeing her there, he is frozen.Fight or Flight breaking down to freeze.Has he always been such a coward? 

Yes. 

Yes he has.A miserable coward since he was a child.Getting into trouble trying to try to prove to himself that he isn’t. 

Christ he’s dizzy.But she’s still talking. 

“Jon, you really oughtn’t be here.You don’t look well.Shouldn’t you still be resting?That long in hospital should have you in need of some physical therapy.Are you pushing yourself too hard?”

Jon bites down on the urge to snap at her.Or start crying.Or simply pass out and not have to deal with this conversation at all.“I need to be here,” he says quietly.Afraid that expelling too much air will knock him over. 

“And why is that?Really Jon, I swear…Melanie says you haven’t been eating , or sleeping, but she seesyou here at all hours.Why?What is this all for?It’s just a job, I don’t care if there are Monsters or whatever.You see this?This is why I can’t deal with you right now!Not to mention what you did to Melanie.What the hell, Jon?You say you’re trying to save the world, but maybe you can’t?Maybe you need to save yourself before you can do anything else.”

Jon just wants to get away before he goes down, and by this point he knows that is inevitable.Maybe get to his office, and open a statement first.Maybe that will help, or maybe it will make him feel better once he comes around.He should put down his tea.He doesn’t want the mug to break if he can’t make it.He’ll set it on the table on the way out, or wait until he’s inthe bullpen and put it down and take a seat and hope that helps.He tries to edge around her, staring at the floor.Careful not to say anything that could compel.Just wanting to get out.“Have work to do… sorry.” 

“No you don’t!Look at yourself, Jon!Work can wait!” 

Jon just wants to leave.He wishes it could!He does.He wants nothing more than to take a vacation.To move in with Martin and Tim and have a life.A home.Safety.Normalcy.And Argument over who finished the milk and who has to do the shopping and not about how best to not die at the hands of Fear Gods, and how best to not serve them.“Please, Georgie you don’t understand…” 

He backs away.Fuck he’s dizzy. 

“No, Jon I don’t.Explain.What am I missing.Why do you have to do this?Why do you insist on working yourself into your grave?It’s already basically killed you.Maybe some of us don’t want to see you do that again?”

“I… I…I need a Statement….”Well so much for getting away.He’s not even going to make it to a chair or the floor on his own.“Hold this, I’m… I think I’m going to faint now.”He holds his cane out to her. 

She takes it confused. 

Jon doesn’t remember hitting the floor. 

When he comes around, his head is pounding. 

Georgie is touching him.He is on his side, and he is being yelled at.He can’t make out the words yet… all just in a haze of pain and confusion and feeling like utter shit.He tries to bat her hands away but he can’t and so he just lays there.Hoping some feeling comes back to his limbs soon.Or that Georgie will just get bored and leave him there. 

But then Martin is there.And Tim. 

And Martin is shooing Georgie out of his personal space.“He doesn’t like being touched while he’s out.” 

Well…correct. 

“What the hell just happened?”Georgie. 

“Well… it happens sometimes.Did he say anything?”Martin again. 

“Something about needing Statement?”

“Tim, could you grab him a Statement?” 

“Sure thing, back in a mo.”Tim.More earnest than Jon has heard him in a long time.Tim helping him?If he wasn’t already on the floor, he might have fainted again at that. 

“What, you’re just going to go along with it?Let him work himself to death?Look at him!He isn’t well!…I don’t know why I am arguing this.He’s an adult and if he is going to do that, I don’t need to be a part of this.It isn’t my job to baby sit him.”Georgie shoves his cane at Martin, who doesn’t freeze.In fact, as far as Jon can tell through half lidded eyes, Martin looks angry. 

“Look.I know we don’t know each other well.But do you really think so poorly of Jon… of me?I don’t know what he’s told you… but he needs those Statements to live.I don’t know if it’s ….a food… or… or an addiction.But … he doesn’t do well without them.And… And Elias was feeding them to him when he wasn’t here.And Jon told me how you didn’t want them in the flat, but he got sick in America.Really really sick, and … and Elias found him there and fed him another one.He didn’t know until then.But… you have to know we can’t quit.And we aren’t sure if Jon can live without these.And it is a far from ideal situation… but we are working on it.You don’t have to like it.Or talk to Jon, although you should.You aren’t _enabling_ him, he needs a support system.And he’s just too thick to see that Tim and I are here from him, and everyone else is giving him the cold shoulder… so I don’t blame him for being too thick to notice!Not to mention, my new position has made interacting with him during work hours… difficult, but I can’t blame him for not wanting to move in yet, although I hope he will.And you!The only person not in this mess who he trusts, ignores him.Blames him!Maybe you should try listening?I get it… you can’t deal with him right now.Fine.I get it.Do what you have to.You don’t have to look after him at your own expense.But don’t be cruel.…Oh good.Tim, thanks.When he comes around, a Statement and some tea will set him right.”Martin smiles at Tim (a smile that makes Jon jealous) and gives Georgie a cool look. 

“Marto, I think he’s been awake for most of that.”Tim is crouched by him. 

“Haven’t been eavesdropping, promise.Just… just getting my bearings.I’m fine.I’ll be up soon.”Jon’s voice is rough.Misery, unshed tears, exhaustion.Take your pick. 

“It’s okay, buddy.We’ll get you fixed up and then you can have a proper rest.Offer of the flat share is still open, okay?”Tim hovers, ready to help him sit when he’s ready. 

Jon… doesn’t know what to say.After hearing Martin defend him… Maybe… Maybe he can start working on trusting Tim again.Tim… is, after all, working on trusting him too. 

Georgie looks down at him.He can’t read her expression.She looks at him for a long moment. 

The gaze isn’t uncomfortable by itself.But Jon feels exposed on the floor.Small and helpless and weak as well as supernaturally hungry, that not at all helped by his “surprise nap.” 

He tries to avoid meeting her eyes. 

“I’m… sorry I didn’t listen.I… still can’t do this with you right now.But… I’m sorry.I can’t be your friend now, but… let me know if you want some pictures of the Admiral ever, okay?”And she leaves.Off to bring Melanie to her appointment. 

Leaving Jon with Martin and Tim.

Who bring him to his sad excuse for a bed, tuck him in with a statement and a cup of tea and tell him to call if he needs anything.And Jon thinks, maybe he will reconsider their offer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading hope you enjoy! I have a few more bingo prompts to post, but only one more to write! Feel free to stick it in my inbox on tumblr at captaincravatthecapricious, and if no one does, well you will just have to put up with whatever whim strikes me this weekend when I will write it for a backlog. Let me know if you enjoy and have a lovely day!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know if you enjoyed it! You can reach me at captaincravattehcapricious on tumblr. Stay tuned, I am nearly done with bingo! Four more fics to go, and only one more prompt to send in, so if you have something in mind, get it in quick! I hope you know the drill by now!


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